


Accusation (I Know I'm Not Who You're Looking For)

by AnarchyandArmistice



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gray aromantic Riz, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Takes place post senior year, they're my boys and i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnarchyandArmistice/pseuds/AnarchyandArmistice
Summary: “You love me.”Fabian seems to be waiting for Riz to say something; maybe confirmation, maybe denial, maybe something else entirely. But Riz tired, bone-deep exhaustion sunk into his bones, and he can only shrug.Or, these two saps are very much in love.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 19
Kudos: 136





	Accusation (I Know I'm Not Who You're Looking For)

There’s something strange that lives inside Riz’s ribs. 

He doesn’t know when it settled there quietly, only that it now echoes every beat of his heart, the photo negative of blood in his veins.

-:-

“You love me.”

The echo beats in place of Riz’s heart, which has decided to flatline spontaneously. 

He stands in the kitchen of his one-room apartment and waits for Fabian to solve a mystery by himself, for once. (It’s the easiest one out there, but Fabian is a fighter, not a rogue. Riz can forgive him this). 

Fabian seems to be waiting for Riz to say something; maybe confirmation, maybe denial, maybe something else entirely. But Riz is tired, bone-deep exhaustion sunk into his bones, and he can only shrug. 

“You—I—when I was drunk last night, you—” Fabian stutters, finger pointed accusingly at Riz. “You _love_ me.”

(So that’s what cinched it for him. Huh. 

It’s not the worst thing Riz has done under the guise of friendship, to be sure. But maybe he shouldn’t have assumed a twelve stealth would beat Fabian’s passive perception, even if it was only a kiss on the forehead and Fabian is thick as a board).

“What does that even mean?” Riz says. His voice is flat, flatter than it should be. Flatter than if he meant it, and his deception isn’t shit, but it isn’t great, either, so he keeps going. “Love is impossible to quantify. I love all my friends—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Riz!” Fabian says, slamming his hand on the kitchen counter, and Riz’s blood arcs electric in his veins. 

“Don’t—” His hand shakes where it rests, and it’s strange. Fabian is so _strange,_ does he think Riz doesn’t _know?_ “Don’t pretend this isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” Riz cuts, cold, across Fabian’s stuttering, and he’s always been like this, hasn’t he? Acid and lashes and the smoking barrel of a gun already fired, too quick to take it back. “Isn’t strange? Isn’t creepy? Isn’t a total breach of privacy? I _know,_ Fabian, I do. Okay?”

Fabian takes a step back, something on his face like muddied waters, but Riz has never passed an insight check against that look, so he says, “I can’t _stop it,_ Fabian. I would, if I could, and I tried, but I _can’t.”_

Riz tried so hard.

(He’s never found a mystery he couldn’t solve, and it was no different, senior year. A handful of late nights, a call from Kristen and Fig, a conspiracy board with pictures of Fabian’s sheet and Fabian’s hair and Fabian’s smile—

And Riz Gukgak had solved another mystery, the one about his second heartbeat and the way it damns him, more than anything else).

“And I understand,” Riz bites, and it stings, _oh, Cassandra,_ does it sting, but he has to do this. Fabian isn’t tied to him. He needs to say that out loud. “That this… changes things. I don’t want to make it—weird—”

“A little late there, huh?” Fabian scoffs, swinging his arms around like that’ll make a difference.

Riz’s lip curls in response, and he snarls, “Hey, I wanted to leave it at ‘I love all my friends,’ but _you_ wanted less bullshit!” The heartbeat and the echo start back up, pounding pounding pounding, and Riz opens his arms. “Well, here’s the truth, if it’s so fucking important; _yeah,_ I love you! _Yeah,_ I have for a while! You weren’t supposed to know!”

“How wasn’t I supposed to know?” Fabian shouts.

“Well I wasn’t gonna tell you!” Riz pulls at the too-long strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “When would I even do that? ‘Hey, Fabian, how was bloodrush practice? Oh, by the way, I don’t know how romantic feelings are supposed to work, but sometimes I lie awake at night thinking about what it’d be like to kiss you on the cheek, and I think that means I’m in love with you! See you tomorrow!’” Riz scoffs, and it comes out a snarl around bared teeth, and he thinks maybe that fits. 

“I don’t know!” Fabian admits, still waving his arms around the way he does when he feels threatened. “But it should’ve been before _now!_ I should’ve _known!”_ He turns desperate eyes on Riz, eyes that always spot him in crowded rooms, even on critical success stealth rolls, and maybe that should've tipped Riz off. “I should’ve _known,_ Riz.” 

“Why?” Riz spits, acid and acrid and _cold,_ like he isn’t prickling all over, too warm with shame, like tears aren’t gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Why should I have told you?”

Fabian opens and closes his mouth like a fish gasping for air, caught and thrown aboard before its time. 

“So you could reject me? So we’d be—different? So I’d know _I’d_ ruined it?” Riz takes a wobbling breath, ready to continue—

Fabian’s hands land on his shoulders, tight enough to hold him, but loose enough it doesn’t hurt. “Because I _love_ you, you stupid _fuck!”_ He roars, shiny black eye meeting Riz’s, holding his gaze like a challenge, like a dare.

And this—it has to be a dream, and if Riz bites his tongue (he’s biting it, _has been biting it)_ he’ll wake up, shaking and sweat-soaked in his bed. 

But he tastes copper, and nothing has happened but Fabian moving in, moving close enough his spicy cologne wafts up Riz’s nose and makes him feel seasick, almost. 

“You should’ve _told me,”_ Fabian says, softer, (And Riz _hates_ it, despises the way it makes something in him _ache,_ panging like he can’t live without it) “so I could do this.” 

He leans in, pressing his lips to Riz’s. 

He tastes salty, like sea breeze or those stupid rich people fish he won’t stop eating, and Cassandra above, Riz is _kissing someone_ who tastes like rich people fish—

Fabian pulls back, breath shuddering around in his chest like Riz has knocked something loose in him, like Riz really—really _moves_ him, somehow. 

“I’ve been gone on you for a _stupid_ long time, The Ball,” Fabian whispers, eyes fluttering shut and Riz wants to kiss him again _so bad,_ but— “Longer than I can even trace back.” 

Riz chokes a little on something in the back of his throat. It might be his heart. “I—since freshman year.” Fabian turns wide, surprised eyes on him, and Riz hurries to explain, “I’ve—since then. You, uh,” Riz scratches at his cheekbone, noting with a jolt that Fabian hasn’t let go of his arms. “You invited yourself over to my house to study, and I just—I looked over at you, and you were biting your lip, staring at—I think it was math, or something? I don’t remember, but I just remember thinking I wanted that to be my life.” 

There’s a pause, something weighty hanging between them, and Riz’s face burns as the enormity of his rambling hits him. 

He’s point-five seconds from extracting himself from Fabian’s hold (his warm, comfortable hold) and straight-up escaping when Fabian chuckles softly, pulling Riz closer and pressing their foreheads together, feather light and Riz’s whole body _aches._

“That long, huh?” He says, and Riz knows he’s close to crying. “Fuck, Riz, you knew for years, and I was just—”

“No!” Riz cuts in before this stupid, lovable idiot can go and start berating himself. “I—no. I didn’t. I—it was senior year.” 

Fabian’s eyebrows quirk. “Senior year? I would have guessed mid-sophomore, at most.” He snickers, playful, the sound bouncing around Riz’s too-full ribcage. “I thought you were our detective extraordinaire, The Ball.” 

“It wasn’t,” Riz says quietly, wishing he could tuck his face into Fabian’s shoulder without losing the easy comfort of his forehead pressed to Riz’s, of talking into each other’s mouths. 

“Wasn’t what?” 

“A mystery.” Riz winds his arms around Fabian’s neck, fingers curling in the shoulders of his jacket. “I cared about you. I wanted you to care about me. I thought it was a best-friend thing.” 

Fabian gasps softly, and Riz squeezes him, closing his eyes. “There may have been a few clueboards after Adine finally convinced me that staring at your best friend’s face and wanting to cry about how pretty he is wasn’t strictly platonic.”

Fabian chokes a laugh, but Riz can see the tears pooling at the corner of his eye. “I’m going to have to take a look at those,” he rasps. 

“Anything you want,” Riz promises, and he finds that he means it, right down to the core of him.

Anything Fabian wants, Riz will give him. 

Fabian’s hand comes up to cradle Riz’s cheek, and they stay like that for a minute. 

“Junior year,” he says finally, a wistful smile curling his lips. “Gorgug would offer Zelda his varsity jacket every Friday, and I couldn’t figure out who I wanted to give it to.” Fabian chuckles, thumb brushing strands of Riz’s hair out of his face. “I kept trying to give it to Aelwen, but it never seemed like the right time. So after a week, I went home and tried to plan the right time. I kept circling back to right before everyone left Mordred Manor, after I’d driven you over so we could all go to school together,” Fabian smirks at Riz, and his heart beats just a little bit faster. “All of my friends in the same place, watching me offer my intended his—oh, well. I just spoiled the ending, huh, The Ball?” 

Riz opens his mouth and tries very hard not to squeak. “I—me?”

Fabian nods against him, pressing a kiss to Riz’s nose. “I couldn’t get it out of my head; you, and the way you’d sneer at it, at anything to do with ‘sportsball—’”

“It’s _fetch,_ Fabian—”

“I know, I know, do you want me to finish the story or not?” Fabian grins at Riz’s blushing, stuttering face as he nods weakly. 

“Good. So you’d sneer at it, but if I asked for it back, you’d clutch it to your chest and hiss at me. And the way you’d look, Riz.” Fabian bumps Riz’s nose with his own, smirking. 

Riz is fairly sure he’s turquoise from ear to ear. 

“So I just kept coming to the same scenario. The same scene. The same hope.” Sighing, Fabian presses a kiss to Riz’s cheek, seemingly just to prove to himself he _can._ “I wanted you to want my jacket. I wanted you to want me.” 

Riz swallows. “I want you.” He closes his fingers around Fabian’s on his cheek and turns to kiss his palm. “I want you, Fabian.” 

Some dam breaks in Fabian, then. His face screws up, and he launches himself against Riz, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing his lips to Riz’s throat, Riz’s jaw, Riz’s shoulder…

Anywhere Fabian can reach, he litters with the mark of something that makes Riz ache, deep in himself, curling into Fabian, nose to his pulse point to inhale that seasalt shoreline silver scent and pressing his own lips to the column of Fabian’s throat.

And some part of him _burns,_ some broken pieces long forgotten, and the pieces Riz has put back together of himself over the years bubble and melt, and tears leak from his eyes and into Fabian’s designer coat, but he can’t care, because Fabian’s doing the same damn thing. 

Riz presses himself into the arms of the man he loves, and he can’t find a single thing to regret.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello yes i am GAY and STUPID and this has been inside my google docs for months gathering dust. There was supposed to be more, but I'm lazy and I crave validation and i don't know what a romantic attraction is, can you tell? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you're having a nice day! Drink water! (Or any liquid, just don't get dehydrated!)


End file.
